The Girl From District 2
by CallMeHome
Summary: Brynell Andes, a Career, though more humane was the one to get through to Cato's real self. He volunteers of the 74th Hunger Games. If/When he returns, will be the same Bryn fell for or fell back into his darker side of humanity? The games change everyone
1. Chapter 1

First fanfiction, so go easy. :) Thanks and review!

I am aware of the spelling/grammer errors, I'm doing this on my own and trying my best.

Summary:

_Brynell Andes was raised a Career, and though she can snap someone's neck in a minute and kill them, she would rather not. The pressure of being lethal that comes from all directions in District 2 hasn't gotten to her. She still has that humane side to her, one she doesn't plan on losing. Brynell was the girl to get into Cato's tough exterior, and they fell in love. But Cato knew since he was a boy that when he turned 18 he was going to volunteer for the Games. Brynell can't talk him out of it, he can make his own decisions. What Brynell is afraid of is Cato, the one she fell in love with who was more sane and less blood-thirsty, will be gone when or if he comes home Victor. The Games will change everyone._

The Girl From District 2

Chapter 1

He made me wait. I couldn't volunteer for him, he was a boy. I couldn't volunteer with him. Clove had already taken the role. And she wouldn't let me have it.

Being raised for murder isn't something I wanted. It was bred in me, but I liked to pick it out and seperate it from myself. Just because I was capable of killing someone with my bare hands didn't mean I was going to. But I would have, for Cato.

District 2 was a good one, I believed it. Underneath all the hunger for the pride that sickeningly came with the death of others. Like Cato. I didn't like him in the beginning. I depsiesed him. He was always the best of the academy, showing off and being arrogant. The rest of the girls fell at his feet when they weren't training. I avoided him best I could. I didn't want to get involved with any of the people from my district. And nothing could've changed that. Not even the Capitol.

But somehow Cato slowly crept up on me. Conveiently being in the right place at the right time. He tried his best to catch my eye. I didn't let him have it. Except for that one night.

It was late and I was not in a hurry to rush home and deal with the hostilities there. Instead, I held myself back at the academy for some alone time. I sat alone in one of the rooms, leaning up against the wall. A knife in my hand was carving pointless lines in a piece of spare wood I found lying around. The light was on, but it was dim. I was sure I was the only one in there.

Footsteps approached. Faintly and then they grew louder. I silently wished it wasn't an instructor or PeaceKeeper. They'd haul me out in a second. I held my breath and stalled the knife carving.

A shadow appeared, tall and taunting. I could only stare. It made its way into the room and stood in the doorway, starring back at me. In the lightning I could sort of make it out. But I knew that stature anywhere. Cato Locke.

He came nearer and I still hadn't exhaled. The free space beside me was taken by his enormous body. Still in the training uniform we were everyday. Black shirt, black training pants with the white belt, and the brown laced-up boots.

"What are you still doing here, Miss. Andes?"

His voice was softer than usual, but it still had that power behind it.

It was a few seconds before I found my voice.

"Nothing specific," I answered quietly.

Cato reached over and took the knife and wood from my hands. He studied it before dropping it to his lap.

"I see that. Really; what's a pretty girl like you doing in the academy alone? At this hour?"

From my peripheral vision I saw his face clearly. The blonde hair perfectly tousled. The jawline. His straight nose. And for a split second, he looked beautiful. But he had a reputation. And he lived for the Hunger Games. For finally getting an opportunity to volunteer. I couldn't deal with someone like that.

"If I wanted you to know, I would've told you the first time you asked, Mr. Locke."

I retrieved my wood and knife, stood up, and made my way to the door. But he was quick, and there he stood in the doorway again.

"So eager to go, huh?" he teased with a smirk.

"I might ask you the same question you asked me before. What are you doing here so late?"

Cato crossed his arms. The muscles bulging.

"Private fencing lesson. Usually this place is empty by the time I'm done."

I nodded, veering to the right to get past him and leave. He mimicked me and left me with no way out. I went to the opposite side, he went the same direction. I wasn't in the mood for games.

"Will you move or will we keep playing this game?" I sighed.

He raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

"Depends on what kind of game you're interested in playing."

"None with you. None with anybody. I hate games. Goodnight," I explained and made way to the left again. He followed.

"Please just move," I asked.

"Or what?" Cato was such a tester.

"Or I-" I started to retort but feet traveling the halls echoed throughout and I froze. I wasn't allowed to be there that late. I wasn't sure Cato was either. If a person had a private lesson or something after normal hours, they were to leave directly after that ended. We didn't.

"Damn," I cursed to myself.

My arm was being pulled outside the door and I looked up to see Cato guiding me around the academy. I was about to ask where we were headed, but I didn't want to risk it. Knowing I would regret it later, I went where he led and didn't question it until after we made it out of the building and into a small hiding spot behind an apothecary. In the dark night, no one would see us.

"What are you doing?" I demanded in a harsh whisper.

"Getting you and my ass the hell out of there," he replied, his face set hard.

I rolled my eyes.

"Well, I would appreciate it if you would just end this little party here. Goodbye, Cato."

As I began to walk away, he took my wrist. I twisted around and gasped when he pushed me up against the wall of the cold shop. I was pinned and couldn't wriggle out of his grasp.

"Did you bring me here to kill me?" I spat.

"Just because you have an assumption in that head of yours doesn't make it correct," he replied sternly.

I breathed deeply, an atempt at staying calm.

"What then?"

"Why do you ignore me? Whenever I look at you and say one word, you back away. I've never given you reason to fear me. Intimidated, maybe. But not afraid. Esspecially when I've trained with you since we were kids."

"I don't need to be involved with anyone else from this district. Including you." It was true.

Cato inched closer to my face and I felt his hot breath on mine.

"You got a good reason why?"

"I know the kind of person you are," I answered. But my voice was wavering. I begged it not to resent me.

His face moved in closer. His forehead touched mine.

"You've never spoken to me before now," he whispered.

"I-I kn-know y-you." Damnit.

"Oh, do you? Do you know I like you, Brynell?"

Cato bridged the gap and lightly put his lips on mine. I didn't move. I didn't shutter. I didn't breathe. He didn't force it, he pulled back and we starred at each other for a minute.

We met up secretly with each other after training ever since.

I wasn't in love with him yet. But over time, our conversations got deeper and deeper. He occassionally let me in. Once he realized it, he would shut up and become the cocky, blood-thirsty Hunger Games trainee again. Everytime, though, he would take longer to realize it, eventually letting me really get to know Cato Locke. My assumptions were wrong.

Cato was sweet. With me. He treated me as an equal, because he knew I could hold my own. But he was protective of me at times. Someone would gossip something about me at the academy and Cato would have to be held back from the almost-victim. Cato was still an ego-maniac. I helped keep him in line. He teased me for fun, and I teased him back. I told him everything and he shared his secrets with me. We were eachother's rock.

We did fall in love. It was only a year earlier that he had met up with me in the room that night. It wasn't long. But it had a lot of depth.

The Reaping was shouldn't have been a surprise to me. Cato was 18. He had been waiting his entire life to enter the Hunger Games and come out Victor, for our district. Pride was something he treasured. And his father was once a Victor. He was obligated.

Before a name was chosen for the tributes of the 74th Annual Hunger Games, his voice shot straight up as volunteer. And I had to stand by and listen to the roar of District 2 as they applauded and cheered him on. The reality of it hit me on the head. My Cato was really going to have to fight to the death.

Clove had volunteered before I could do anything about being tribute alongside him. Standing on stage next to Cato, they accepted their parts as District 2's tributes. I tried to swallow the bile rising in my throat as I accepted the possibility of Cato not making it out alive.


	2. Chapter 2

The Girl From District 2

Chapter 2

Peacekeepers guided me into the Justice Building. I went through the short hallway lined with photos of Capitol members on the crisp, white walls. My shoes padded quietly on the cold, marble floor. It seemed to clean a place to be so metaphorically filthy.

The PeaceKeeper on my left pushed on the doorhandle and then squeezed me into the room where I saw Cato starring out the window. The room was silent and I felt a chill run up my spine when my eyes landed on the collection of past Victors of District 2 above the mahogany desk. Platinum and shiny, a bonus of being the Capitol's favorite district.

I went straight up to Cato. My arms wrapped around his middle, and I buried my face into his muscular back. The warmth from him radiated through me. I didn't want to let go. But he took my hands and unclasped them. Cato turned around to face me and leant down to my level.

"You're okay," he said with confidence.

Tears weren't something I wanted to give in to, but my eyes betrayed me. Cato took his thumb and wiped them from my face.

"I hate games," I reminded him with a crack to my voice.

He tried to fake a smile.

"Only until I win."

"B-but Cato," I began. He cut me off.

"I volunteered. I've trained my whole life. I was born for this, Bryn."

I could only shake my head. My hands glided to his neck and tied around it.

"P-promise?" I asked.

Cato nodded, a smirk rising to his mouth. And for a second, he was his old self again. And the room lit up.

"You worry too much." He added a chuckle at the end.

Something of part of a smile flickered across my features. Cato took the opportunity and crashed his lips to mine. I gasped at the sudden contact, but gradually released all my mixed emotions into him. My hands found their way into his soft, blond hair and yanked hard when he forced my mouth open with his tongue. I groaned, moving to suck on his lower lip. He let out a grunt and then took revenge, taking my lip in his and lightly biting it. Cato pressed my body feverishly against his, panting heavily. But I had to end it. We were only granted 4 minutes.

"Please. . ." I breathed, my forehead against his. "Just promise . . . you'll be the last one . . . standing."

"I promise. It's just some games and then I'll be home, crowned Victor, before you know it. Promise me you won't take your eyes off the television. Not if I'm on it," he joked half-heartedly.

I sighed and put my face in his neck. Breathing him in. Possibly for the last time ever. I took in his scent.

A Peacekeeper broke in and ordered me to leave.

"Win, Cato. Do whatever you have to. Just come home," I pulled him into one final hug. He gave me a tight squeeze and stood up to his full height.

"You'll see me soon."

"I love you, Cato," I mouthed as the Peacekeeper dragged me away.

"Love you," his lips moved back silently.

I knew Cato was going to enter the Games at 18 if he didn't get chosen before then. It was like it had been programed in him to step into that arena, murder without a second thought, and stand there as the world bowed to his feet. I wasn't going to talk him out of it. He was his own person and could make his own decisions. We were equal in our relationship. For some sick reason, the same sick reason District 2, us, and District 1, and the Capitol, the Hunger Games was a celebration, a thrill, and an honor to be tribute in. Cato always said it was about "bringing pride to your district." I'd say District 2 had more than enough pride.

It wasn't my place to make him volunteer or not. Not even I could change his choice. He volunteered because he was so sure he was going to win. He volunteered because in his mind, losing wasn't the faintest possibility. Cato was not going to get in that arena and wonder how he'll survive. He'll come up with a plan on how to win. Cato had no fear. Something I wish I could've had when he accepted his decision as tribute.

Doubting him was foreign to me, I'd never done it before. There was no need to, though. Because his life wasn't on the line and there weren't 23 other blood-thirsty tributes out there waiting to strike him. Now there was.

Still, I promised myself I wouldn't doubt him. I'd cheer him on until he was announced Victor. I garunteed myself that he was going to win. A risk, but for him, I took it.

I slumped home through the throngs of excited people. Chanting Cato's and Clove's names. The cheers and applause and whistles bounced around the district, giving me a head ache. I kept my head down and proceeded home. Arriving upon the stone block home, I went to the silver metal door and turned the knob. Unlocked. Hmm.

The only sound traveling through the house was the family's old dog, Waverly. She was whining from inside her cage by the kitchen table. I made my way to her, knealt down, and freed her. The golden retriever gave my cheek a lick and scampered into the living room. I smiled smally.

My family was probably taking part in the "festivities." I wouldn't be.

At least I had the house to myself. It was quiet.

Another thing I hated about Panem, District 2 especially, was that if someone wasn't married by 20, an aranged marriage was given. My parents unfortunately fell into that. They fought constantly. there was never any beating involved, thankfully, but nothing ever seemed to drown out the shouting. Anika, my 19-year-old sister was probably already in the discussions of District 2's government officials. One more year or she would be thrown into the same fate my parents suffered.

Not all arranged marriages were loveless. Some of the couples fell in love, though rare. Others weren't so lucky. Hence my parents.

And may the odds be ever in your favor.

Cato's parents were liked mine. Though his mom was beaten by his dad. Since we were kids I saw him take it out in the Training Academy. I didn't know why until I got to know him. Cato and his mom had a weird relationship. She pushed Cato to his farthest, and his father would take it out on him if he didn't measure up to their standards. At least his mom was more lax about it. Verbally and mentally pusnishing him. There would be those times, though, when she would break through it all and show some sort of little compassion for her son. Cato cherished those seconds, they were rare next to none.

When his dad entered the Hunger Games all those years ago, his mom fell deathly sick with an illness called cancer. It was new and not much was known about it. Without treatment, she was gone before his dad came back as Victor.

We never delved that far in those conversations, it was a sensitive thing for him. That only made his dad work Cato harder. Saying "at the rate he's going, he'll never win a damn Games." I think that was why Cato always had that hard exterior, acting like he owned the place and trying to scare people away. He never had a healthy relationship with anyone.

Figuring my family would spend a while in the square until the commotion calmed down, I took out some things to prepare dinner for myself. A fresh batch of salmon had just been shipped in from District 4. I took it out of the ice capsule and set it on the couner. While I washed the pieces off in the sink, I decided it was a little too quiet. My mind was already eerie with thoughts of Cato not being around. I needed a distractor.

Lifting a hand towel off the counter, I wiped my wet hands off. I walked into the living area where a flat-screen television sat high on the gray wall. The skinny remote rested on the couch and I picked it up to turn the television on.

Just in time, actually. Caesar Flickerman with his cobalt hair styled fashionably high, matching with the blue sequins on his suit. The silver bow-tie sparkled brightly. Caesar was animatedly discussing the Hunger Games. Cladius with the white curls up on his head, evidence of Captiol surgery clear when his mouth barely moved as he gave his opinion on the year's tributes. I sighed.

"This will get my mind distracted alright," I sarcasically mumbled.

I pushed down the buttons to hit the volume down a little. when content with the then whispers of the television, I went back to finish dinner.

My sister eventually made her way back to the house around 7pm, having drank too much and nearly tripping over her feet on her way to her bedroom. A few minutes behind her, my father and then my mother. They were arguing about whatever. I didn't care to pay attention. I sat with my knees to my chest, Waverly keeping me warm beside me, on the couch waiting for the Tribute's Parade.

That night was when the world would see the tributes from Districts 1-12. The Capitol would be stretching if only to get a glimpse of the tributes. The remainder of Panem would sit by and root for their district. President Snow would welcome them and oficially open the Games. Sponsors would choose their tributes, as well. I tried to overshadow my stupid doubts of Cato not winning with fake optimism.

The world would be watching.

Struggling to hear Ceasar and Claduis over my parents disagreement down the hall. I switched the volume up a bit. The anthem of Panem played throughout the parade, thousands of Captiol citizens motley dressed, looking like scattered pieces of confetti in the stands, President Snow rising to the podium, awaiting the tributes.

District 1 came down on their chariots, dressed in blue and pink and sequins and whatever the hell their stylists had put them into. The blond girl smiled and waved, like she was accepting an award. The boy next to her did the same.

District 2. There he was, wearing a gold God-like design, his face serious and confident. Clove was right there with him, waving to the crowd and listening to them go wild. Cato did look menacing on the screen.

"And there are the District 2 tributes, Clove and Cato. They look well-prepared, don't you think, Caesar?" Claduis inturupted.

"Yes, and it's such a talent how each stylist can capture the essence of each district through their designs," Caesar replied excitedly.

It made me happy for a second. Seeing Cato on television. I promised him I'd be watching.

The rest of the tributes made their way down to the end. I didn't pay much attention as President Snow went through his annual monologue. My eyes wouldn't leave Cato.

I didn't know why we had to continue training once the Reaping Day was over. What I didn't understand more was that I, being 17, only had one more year where I was eligable. I thought enough hours of the grueling training for the past 17 years would've sufficed.

Guess not.

Still there I stood in line, my uniform on and my long pin-straight dirty blond hair in its usual dutch braid morphing into a messy bun on the side. Only 4 waited in front of me to practice our sword techniques. A little smile grew across my face briefly when I remembered how much Cato loved using a sword. He was skilled at them, too.

Cato.

That night was the interviews. Caesar would host yet another segment for the Games. The tributes would be done up in ridicuously fancy clothes and discuss who they were, what their skills were, and either express their sick enthusiasm or grimace at the upcoming Games. I always saw some of them falter. Their facade occasionally cracking. their false positivity and their wokring so hard to come across as intimidating, it shifted sometimes. Like with Cato's mom.

I hoped Cato was doing okay. He looked good during the previous night's Parade. Dominant and a huge threat to the other tributes. It was him. His primary personality. Cato was raised like that, just like the rest of District 2. He was pretty lethal. Why I never got involved with him before. Why I didn't get involved with many people ever. But he was different with me. Like I created a more humane side of him. The side I fell in love with.

I was afraid the Games would change him. And it would be almost impossible to tap back into my Cato. Just looking at his facial expressions during the Parade I could see he was already swinging into the darker side of himself. I hoped he didn't lose all of who he was.

Cato had two different personalities. Who knew which one he'd return home with.

I hate games.

"Brynell," Sylphid called, standing next to me. His voice was stern. It was my turn to practice.

Knealing down, I picked up a sword off the rack. I took a step forward and looked at the practice dummy. I didn't want to be there. In the Training Academy with the cement blocks suffocating me, noises of others fighting around me.

"Brynell," the young 30-something trainer demanded a little louder.

I snapped back into it. I let Cato be my motivation. He was probably in the Captiol's Training Center, anyway. Being scrutinized under the Gamemakers.

Taking in a breath, I swung my right hand up and slashed down, the right arm of the dummy hitting the floor. I pivoted around and stepped behind it, chopping the head off. Jumping back in front of it, I stabbed the target in the stomach. Taking in a gust of air, I turned to the nod of Sylphid.

"Next station," he ordered.

Walking over to the weight-lifitng station, I pondered why all the training and being raised to kill had never taken over me. It had taken some of the best of District 2. District 1, also. They were trained their entire lives.

That voice inside me, my conscience, had a bigger voice than the others, I guessed. Mine told me that even though everyone and everything around me told me it was alright, it kept saying it wasn't. I didn't want to lose the sound of that voice. Ever.


	3. Chapter 3

The Girl From District 2

Chapter 3

I stayed later at the Training Academy. It was funny. No one even asked how I felt about Cato being in the Games. Then again, I should not have been expecting as much from my district.

I spent my time with the knives. The dummies were the victims of my complicated feelings.

Suddenly I wished I had just spoken up and fought with Clove to be tribute alongside Cato. But I couldn't move. He had jumped so fast, volunteering. I knew he was planning on it, however, it was so surreal I couldn't even react.

I darted the knife into the center of the red target on the dummy.

It made me feel weak how I was at the Reaping. I felt guilty for doubting Cato. I felt remorse for how I didn't battle Clove for the role.

"Damn him," I muttered, annoyed.

Giving up, I went over to pull the knife from the dummy. I then placed it with the rest of its shiny family on the racks.

On my way home, the sun began to set. The sky was collecting clouds of dark purple, though no one seemed to pay any mind. The crowd of people was standing in front of the screen next to the Justice Building.

I looked up and saw the oh-so-famous Caesar sitting at a Capitol desk, announcing the scores for the tributes. The two from District 1 both received 9's.

"District 2. Clove. 10!" Caesar said, his voice booming through the speakers.

How could I forget to watch the scores? At least I was there then and hadn't missed Cato.

My district cheered. Careers usually got the high scores, so it was no surprise. The Gamemakers kept a close watch during the tributes training periods and then gave each one a score on how well tuned their skills were paired with their chance of overall survival.

The noise dimmed when Cato's picture appeared behind Caesar. I held my breath.

"Cato from District 2. 10!"

And the district went wild again. Our tributes were bound to get hoards of sponsors with scores like that. Sponsors from the Capitol gave Cato a higher chance of winning.

I didn't pay any more attention to the rest of the tribute's scores. I zoned out before I heard Caesar reminding Panem,

"Join us later tonight for the tribute's interviews!"

With that, the Capitol seal flickered on and off the screen, then the screen went black.

I trudged home, again, through the blood-thirsty people of my district. At least Cato had a chance of winning. I knew he did, anyway, but I felt like a score of 10 made it more reassuring.

On my way the water began to softly escape the clouds, growing more vicious the closer I got to home. Relieved when I finally reached the door, I twisted the knob and let myself in. I struggled on my own to keep the home a decent place, with things in their right spots and neat. Unfortunately Anika had anger issues, and she overreacted with everything, so no surprise she was somehow always messing things up. And then my parents, lazy and distant as usual. No one cared to keep up with anything.

It was every man for himself in my own family.

I gave myself a shower and settled into some pajamas. I tied my hair to the side in a fish tail braid. Looking in the reflection I saw the effects of the family I lived with and Cato not being there to serve as my rock. I had to turn from it before the tears welled up.

There was a notebook that Cato and I had used to scribble notes to each other. It was sort of like a little game, but this one I actually liked. Whenever we spent time together, we would write a lot of mini-conversations in it. Even if we were sitting right next to the other. I took it from my dresser and sat it with me on the bed.

In his gruff hand-writing it said,

_**You know you do, Bryn.**_

I smiled to myself, remembering that day perfectly. Cato and I were sitting against a shop in the square, people-watching and he kept teasing me. It was right after a long day in the Training Academy. And although his blond hair was messy and his face sticky with sweat, he managed to look beautiful. But Cato being Cato, took to that comment differently.

_I do what?_

_**Want me.**_

Oh, sweetheart, if you only knew how much. He had a reputation for being a ladies' man. That didn't go by with me, though. He just liked to pick fun at it.

_And what if I do?_

_**You can have anything you want. If you're willing to fight for it.**_

_Why would I have to fight?_

___**It'd be more amusing to me.**_

___You're horribly sadistic._

_**But you're still beside me.**_

__That was when I looked at him and before he let me say anything, he grabbed my face and kissed me. Cocky.

I remembered the first time he kissed me. We were actually in a class at the Training Center. Sparring, Cato's favorite. It was towards the end of class and our instructors had actually given us time to practice on our own with who we chose, -which was exceptionally rare. Instantly Cato and I migrated towards each other. The sounds of clanging and whipping through the air from around us matched my heartbeat perfectly.

"Go easy?" I suggested with a false innocence.

He smirked.

"Nice try, baby."

Cato lifted his sword up and around right before it cut against mine. I knew he wouldn't go easy, especially with the swords. I took a cautious step back and snagged a second free sword off the rack. I wouldn't give him a break either if he wanted to play like that. I crossed both of mine, aiming for his shoulders, but missing when he leaped to the side. I rolled my eyes and caught it in time before he almost cut my upper body off. I pivoted quickly but when I went to strike him, I felt the coolness of metal on my neck, lifting it upwards towards my captor.

"Easy enough for you?" he breathed roughly.

My heart was about to give out from running so hastily.

"It was decent," I commented.

His free arm snaked around my waist, pulling me closer.

"You weren't half bad yourself," Cato confessed, his bright sapphire eyes starring intensely into mine.

"Could say the same to you, Cato."

He chuckled.

"How do you know this isn't one of my tricks? I could kill you right now easily if I wanted to."

For some reason, I wasn't afraid.

"You won't."

"You're pretty sure of yourself."

I inhaled deeply and let it out before I unclenched his arms off me and ran away from him. He was right behind, chasing me. I swung my right arm out with my sword and scraped his arm, but not too bad because his sword was right there to halt the aim. Relying on my other sword, I took that and went to slice his arm, but he blocked that, too, with his hand. He yanked it from me and stood there with two in his possession.

Damn.

"Still sure of yourself, Brynell?" he teased.

I let a moment wait before attacking again. I was lucky enough to knock out the sword he stole from me on the ground, but then he kept angling his spare near me, backing me to the wall. Mine was positioned out in front of me, as an obstacle, thinking naively that he wouldn't cross it. Cato just flung it off to the side with his. He pressed up against the wall and held both my hands above my head with his one, the other one laying pressure on my neck, coercing me to look at him.

"This seems like a familiar encounter, doesn't it?" I asked lightly.

"Like the first time," he answered.

"Mmhm," I agreed. I was going to force myself to stay resilient against him, I had no fear.

Cato inched his face closer to mine. His hard jawline, the small but tempting mouth, and those eyes, putting a spell on me.

"I could kill you," he murmured, taunting me by exerting more force on the sharp metal near my throat.

"You care about me too much," I said.

_Did I just say that? _

I didn't intend for that to fly out of me.

I awaited his response.

"Where would that idea come from, hm?" And he softly grazed his lips along my cheek.

"The way you fight with me. The way you talk to me. The way you look at me," I answered, my voice starting to shake.

His head cocked to the side and he pulled back a little.

"The way I fight?" he challenged.

"Y-yes. That, that isn't your best. I-I know that y-you're afraid to h-hurt me, Cato."

He nodded, urging to me elaborate.

"You _do _g-go easy on me. You s-said, you said it yourself. You _like _me. Hell knows why. You fight with the others differently. It isn't even _you _when you train with them. I've seen the cracks in your façade. There's something human inside of you, no matter how many call you 'brutal, bloody Cato'."

Cato pondered and digested what I had said. I managed to stand my ground a little firmer nearing the end, not one word was a lie. He shifted his gaze from thoughtful to mischievous in a matter of seconds. I swallowed hard when he got in my face again.

"You like _me," _he hissed.

I thought about it for a minute.

"I do," I concurred.

He let go of his sword and it fell to our feet. His lips devoured mine and I timidly let myself give in. I wrapped his hair around my hands and pushed myself against him. Cato got the motive, backing me up further against the wall if that was even possible. But things were discontinued when a voice rang out defiantly,

"Locke! Andes!"

We had been caught by the entire Training class, more importantly, Sylphid.

The memories were involuntary. Why I didn't stop them was a reason I couldn't find. But I should've been more confident in Cato winning because whenever I thought of him, the back of my mind would always remind me that his life wasn't guaranteed to return home.


End file.
